


Neal and Mozzie in SPACE!

by kayliemalinza



Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Gen, IN SPACE!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-12
Updated: 2012-09-12
Packaged: 2017-11-14 02:18:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayliemalinza/pseuds/kayliemalinza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A wee ficlet for a space AU. Neal and Mozzie don't need atmosphere to be totally awesome thieves.</p><p>Teaser:<br/>"You're gonna die out there!" Mozzie yells, tinny and strident on the other side of the helmet. "Your perfect skin will slough off from radiation and no-one will hear you scream!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neal and Mozzie in SPACE!

No-one can see the Devore under this get-up, but as soon as Neal's through the airlock he'll toss the marshmallow puff and get back to the pin-stripe. Until then it's a disguise like any other, prison guard uniform or janitor's overalls, except for being a cushion against death. He hopes it doesn't wrinkle his jacket.

"You're gonna die out there!" Mozzie yells, tinny and strident on the other side of the helmet. "Your perfect skin will slough off from radiation and no-one will hear you scream!"

"Thanks for the pep talk, Moz," Neal says back, not bothering to raise his voice. The helmet is pretty thick and Mozzie can read lips, anyway. Neal leans, watching the shadow from his helmet scoop out half of Mozzie's face. The other half is feathered with greyish-pink and solitary flares of green: the diodes from the control panel, running lights on the ship across the gap, the dying star and its chiffon negligee of cast-off gas. His eyeglasses glint.

"They have a brig on that ship, you know," says Mozzie. "They went to space and _brought jail with them_."

"They also brought Ethiopian wood carvings," says Neal. "That's kind of the point." His palms go itchy in the gloves just thinking about holding part of a tree, bumbled and grainy and previously alive. He grins and wonders what his teeth look like, refracted by the double glass.

Mozzie sighs and steps back over the lip of the airlock. "Fair winds and following seas, my friend," he says, and salutes as the hatch slides shut.


End file.
